


Sonic Treacle

by merriman



Category: Black Books
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Yuletide, Yuletide 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-19
Updated: 2010-11-19
Packaged: 2017-10-13 06:58:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/134297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merriman/pseuds/merriman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moldy science fiction paperbacks give Bernard delusions of Gallifrey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sonic Treacle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nawl_v](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nawl_v).



> Written for the 2008 Yuletide challenge in response to a request for a Doctor Who crossover. I couldn't quite manage a full crossover so I do hope this sufficed.  
> Please note that all book titles mentioned in this story truly do exist.
> 
> NOTE: Another copy of this story was imported from the Yuletide archive with the old comments intact. I imported this one before the archive was moved but neglected to realize I didn't use the import tool, so a duplicate was made. They are identical! Except this has kudos and bookmarks and the other has the comments from the archive. Looking for the other for some reason? It's here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1639721

There were a lot of things Bernard Black hated. He'd once tried to make a list but ran out of paper and then went on an hour-long rant about how much he hated running out of paper. But before he'd run out of paper he'd gotten to add such things as white socks, little old ladies, post-it notes and science fiction. Which is why it was Manny who bought the box full of pulpy scifi paperbacks from the nice bespectacled man who carried them in on Thursday morning.

The trouble with Manny's purchases was that Bernard inevitably hated them. It didn't really matter what it was that Manny had purchased, since Bernard automatically hated it on principle, but the paperbacks were really pushing it.

"Manny?" Bernard asked when he came back from his morning booze run. "Manny, why is there a box of rubbish on my desk?"

That was when Manny remembered he'd meant to move the box full of paperbacks off the desk and over to the corner where the tiny hidden collection of science fiction books was kept. As a rule he didn't even mention them when Bernard was in the shop. Too risky.

"Manny?" Bernard asked again. He was staring at the box, hands at his sides, hair looking particularly angry.

Manny hurried over and picked up the box. How to forestall the inevitable?

"Oh! Well, I was going to take these and bring them over to the dump. You know. Get rid of them. Them being books we'd never want to sell. Or have. Or look at. I'll take care of that, shall I?" Manny figured he could hide the books somewhere until one of the few but persistent science fiction buyers came in while Bernard was out.

"No no no!" Bernard protested. "I want to see what sort of garbage you're bringing into my shop behind my back! You dystopia-loving lunatic."

He grabbed the box and a brief scuffle ensued. Eventually, after Bernard had threatened to pull out a hank of Manny's hair, Manny let go of the box.

"Now, let's take a look," Bernard said, setting the box down again and digging through it. He tossed a few of the books from the top of the box directly into the bin behind the desk. The next few were examined and then tossed in the bin as well. "What is this?" he asked, holding up a thin volume entitled _Spock Must Die!_ That too was tossed into the bin. The box still had plenty of books in it but Manny was beginning to despair that any would be salvageable. The bin had already been Bernard's depository of choice for his ash tray and a drawer full of rotten bananas, not to mention the colony of slugs that had taken up residence at the bottom. All Manny could do was stand there and watch in resignation as Bernard continued to go through book after very collectible book and toss them into the bin full of ash-covered banana mush.

"Really, Manny, why would anyone buy this?" Bernard asked, showing him a copy of a Doctor Who novel, _Invasion of the Cat-People_. "This is a publisher's way of selling us kindling. Look at this! _Ninety Trillion Fausts_? **Ninety Trillion Fausts**?! That's not even a real number, Manny!"

"I'll just get rid of them then!" Manny said, reaching for the box.

"Oh no!" Bernard said, shoving the box out of Manny's reach. "I know your tricks. I know what you're up to. Don't think I don't know about the man with the leather jacket you admire so greatly. The one who comes in every so often and eyes you, beckoning, pleading for futuristic drivel. I'll get rid of these myself. Close up the shop for me. I'm going to bed."

"But Bernard," Manny protested.

"No! Bed! Shop! Close!" Bernard snapped on his way into the flat, box in his arms.

"It's only two in the afternoon," Manny muttered after Bernard had gone.

*****

The first sign Manny had that something was wrong in the morning was that Bernard wasn't in his bedroom. Not that Manny actually went into the room, because doing that was inviting a repeat of the incident with the bedsheets and the iron and the Manny ironing board. After that incident, however, Manny had gotten rather good at opening the door without waking Bernard up and peering in at just the right angle to make out whether the lump in the bed was Bernard's dirty laundry, Bernard's even dirtier laundry, books, or Bernard himself. Once it had been a badger, but Manny felt he could be excused for mistaking it for Bernard, what with the fur and the temperament and all.

"He's probably downstairs," Manny thought to himself. Bernard was well known for a late night glass of something or other, so it wasn't inconceivable that he'd gone back down after Manny had closed up the shop and gone to bed. It wouldn't be the first time Manny found him passed out on the desk or the floor or the couch or one of the tables in the shop. Bernard claimed that a table full of Proust did wonders for his back. Manny himself preferred Austen.

Manny put the kettle on before venturing out into the shop. Of course, that meant cleaning out the kettle, which meant clearing out the sink, which meant doing the dishes, which took time. Manny didn't mind doing dishes. It was somewhat relaxing, especially when Bernard wasn't around to berate him. He liked it so much, he eventually lost track of time and started to whistle, which would have been a spectacularly bad idea had he realized Bernard was right out in the shop.

"What is that racket?" Bernard called out.

Manny froze. Whistling had been on the NO list for some time now. Bernard had informed him that he sounded like a tea kettle and should stop before Bernard was forced to fill him with water.

"Honestly, must you make that noise?" Bernard asked, sweeping aside the curtain.

"Sorry, Bernard," Manny said quickly, turning to face him. He'd been expecting Bernard's usual somewhat disheveled appearance, but what he hadn't been expecting was the scarf, which appeared to be about seven feet long and cobbled together from some of Manny's laundry. Or the cricket jumper, which he was quite certain he'd never seen before. Or the leather jacket. Which actually looked rather good on Bernard, oddly enough. Then Manny realized it was his. "Ah, Bernard?"

"Who's Bernard?" Bernard asked. And then Manny was certain of at least one thing: Bernard had gotten into the absinthe, or something equally psychotropic. "Really, Romana, pay attention."

"Romana," Manny said weakly. "I'm not Romana."

"Of course you are! How could you be anyone but Romana? Don't be ridiculous. Look at your hair."

Manny was rather proud of himself for not slamming his own head into a wall just then.

"Come on!" Bernard said, sweeping the makeshift scarf out of the way. "We've got to fix the Tardis!

"The Tardis?"

"Of course!"

*****

Later, when it was all over, Manny would think back and try to remember if he'd locked the door the night before or not. Either way, the door was open when Bernard led him out and gestured grandly at the table full of books in the center of the shop.

"Yes, Bernard, it's the shop," Manny agreed.

"Don't be foolish, Romana! Come on, give me a hand."

"I'm not Romana!" Manny insisted.

Bernard had gotten down onto the floor of the shop and crawled under the table, flinging books this way and that more or less indiscriminately. He peeked out to look at Manny.

"Well. Obviously you must be _someone_. Maybe not Romana. No. Her hair was much nicer. Rose maybe? Peri? Tegan? No no, not loud enough. No matter. Can't expect me to remember anything after regenerating, can you? Now, hand me the sonic screwdriver." He ducked back under the table and held his hand out to Manny, who looked around helplessly.

"The what?"

"Sonic screwdriver!" Bernard demanded. "It's right there!"

Manny looked down at the desk. On it were Bernard's lighter, a battered Swiss Army knife, two slugs on an exploratory mission from the rubbish bin and a broken pencil. The knife seemed the best bet, but Manny made a point never to actually hand Bernard a real weapon. He picked up the pencil and held it up.

"This?"

Bernard looked out from under the table. "No, you imbecile, haven't you ever seen a sonic screwdriver before?" He disappeared back under the table and Manny heard the unpleasantly familiar sound of a book's cover being torn off.

Manny picked up the Swiss Army knife and tried to pry out the blade. When it wouldn't budge he examined it and found that the blade seemed to have been sealed in with treacle. He tried a few of the other tools, but the only one that would move was the pliers, which were also covered in treacle, and therefore didn't actually do anything. He stepped around the desk and handled the treacle tool to Bernard.

"Perfect! Let's see now." Bernard took the tool and there was more shuffling and ripping under the table. "Right! Push that lever on the console and we'll be off."

Manny caught himself looking for a lever and was saved from having to ask the good Doctor Bernard where it was when the door to the shop opened. Unfortunately, that only made things worse.

"Intruder!" Bernard called out, hopping out from under the table and scattering a few dozen books in the process.

A young woman stood in the doorway, staring at him. "Ah..." she began, but she didn't get any further than that.

"Cybermen!" Bernard cried. "Er. Woman! Cyberwoman!"

The woman turned and very wisely fled the shop.

Bernard nodded. "That's right! Run!" He turned back to Manny just as the door opened again.

"Why on earth was that woman running away from the shop? You didn't ask her on a date, did you Bernard?"

It was Fran. Manny stared at her, hoping that he could somehow manage to convey just what was going on using only his eyebrows, but 'Bernard thinks he's Doctor Who' was a complicated sort of concept for eyebrow communication. Fran stared back for a moment.

"Manny? What's wrong with your eyebrows? Did Bernard ask that woman out? Are you having a fit of jealousy?"

Manny, fortunately, didn't have to answer that, since Bernard, unfortunately, chose that moment to leap at Fran, brandishing the not-so-sonic treacle-covered pliers.

"The Master!" Bernard cried.

And then he passed out.

*****

"Was it the absinthe?" Fran asked after she and Manny had carried Bernard over to the couch. He hadn't put up much in the way of resistance, but the scarf had gotten in the way and been discarded on the floor amongst the torn books. Now he was curled up, Manny's leather coat tucked in around him.

"I'm really not sure," Manny admitted. "I thought so at first, but I didn't think he'd gotten any more after I finished off the first bottle. Can you go check his room? I'll watch him. Else he's liable to try and get you covered in treacle."

"A fate worse than death," Fran muttered as she headed back into the flat and up the stairs.

Manny pulled the chair over from the desk and sat down to watch Bernard, who seemed to be attempting to smoke in his sleep. Manny stuck an unlit cigarette in Bernard's mouth and he settled right down, but it was only a matter of time before he'd need it lit.

Upstairs there was a good deal of thumping and bumping as Fran dug through the detritus in Bernard's room. She'd probably be complaining about it for weeks afterwards, which was only to be expected. Bernard's room could likely be declared a hazardous waste site. Manny hoped she'd remembered to put on a mask and gloves before moving anything in there.

Bernard had just started to fuss again when Fran emerged from the flat, a cardboard box in her arms.

"Oh good, you remembered your mask and gloves," Manny said, seeing that she still had them on.

"Good thing, too," Fran said as she set the box down. "I think these books are the culprit." She plucked a book out of the box and flipped through the pages, releasing a cloud of greenish dust. "They're covered in mold! They were all over his bed. He must have spent the whole night reading them. Just think of what he breathed in!"

Manny stared. It was the box of books Bernard had told him he was disposing of the day before.

"You mean, he **read** those?"

"One had a bookmark in it. I'd say so." Fran held up another and opened it, revealing a large greenish-orangey blotch on the inside of the cover. "These are vile, Manny. We've got to get them out of here. Really."

Manny nodded. "We could burn them," he suggested. "Or just dump them in the garden and hope someone steals them."

"Latter," Fran decided. "If we burn them who knows what fumes they'll make. We'll all end up running around thinking we're aliens in outer space. I'll go dump them. I'm still wearing the gloves."

"Thanks, Fran," Manny sighed. "Oh, and Fran?"

Fran turned around halfway through the doorway. "Yeah?"

"If Bernard doesn't remember this?"

"I won't ever tell," she assured him.

"Good."

"Unless he gets me drunk enough."

"Of course."

*****

"Manny? Manny! MANNY!"

"I'm right here, Bernard!" Manny said from his seat at the desk. Fran snickered but managed not to spit out her wine.

Bernard tried to turn around and ended up falling off the couch. "What happened? Did we go to a party? Why am I wearing this... what is this?" he asked, gesturing to the jumper. "Did crazed cricket hooligans kidnap me and bore me into a stupor?"

"Oh. Ah." Manny looked at Fran, who shrugged and took another gulp of wine. "Yes," Manny said firmly. "That's precisely what happened."

"Right," Bernard muttered. "Drink!"

Manny poured Bernard a glass of wine and set it down on the desk. Bernard took his seat and peeled off the jumper before taking a sip. "Tastes moldy," he complained before downing the rest of the glass. "More!"

Manny poured him more.

"Manny?" Bernard asked after his fourth glass. "What happened to that rubbish I was getting rid of yesterday? You didn't sell it, did you?"

"Oh, no," Manny assured him. "But it's taken care of. I promise you, it won't harm anyone."

"Good," Bernard said. He turned to Fran. "I wouldn't want any young or impressionable types like Chewbacca here to be led astray by such nonsense. Just think of the chaos! You never know what that sort of thing can do to a person's mind. I've read about it! Before long they start imagining things! Thinking they're heroes gallivanting across the universe or something when they're really just ordinary sods like the rest of us. Ridiculous." He shook his head and lit himself a cigarette. "Anyhow, we're well rid of it. And don't you think you can pull one over on me like that again," he advised Manny.

"Oh, I won't," Manny promised. "You're far too observant, Bernard."

"I am indeed," Bernard agreed as he stood up and headed into the flat. "I'm like a hawk!" he called back through the curtain.

"Don't mention the sonic treacle on his rear," Manny whispered to Fran. "I'll tell him it was the cricket hooligans later."


End file.
